Feliz Cumpleanos
by MGMK
Summary: Maya turns one. "Blow the candle out."


**Disclaimer:** Don't own. Just borrowing.

**Author's Note:** Still plucking through, slowly. No beta means no going quickly unfortunately. Also, fluff alert. Like, way too much. But thanks for reading and reviewing. Also, previous stories in the Maya-verse series are as follows: **_Baby Talk_**, **_Homecoming_**,**_ Lunch Break_**, **_A Little Personality_**, **_My Mrs. and Baby Kisses_**, **_The Art of Appreciation_**, **_Worth It_**, **_Kept Promises_**, **_Mother's Day_**, **_Me, You, and Miss Bug-A-Boo_**, **_Troutified_**, and **_Mama_**.

* * *

The screen blips and Santana happens to glance over and see the subject line.

Her eyes widen.

"Brittany!"

"What?!" Brittany's voice sounds muffled.

"Why are the Giggle Guys contacting us?!"

With a sheepish smile on her face, Brittany peeks around the closet door. "I may or may not have contacted them."

"Brittany," Santana sighs, putting the pile of formal invite replies down for now, "We discussed this already."

"I know-"

"And we decided we weren't going to go overboard."

"I know-"

"And somehow to you that meant we weren't going to rent out a small island?"

Brittany squints at Santana, head cocking to one side. "We can do that?"

"_Brittany_."

"Okay, I know, I know. I'm going a little overboard-"

"You invited the President."

"And President Winfrey would totally be coming if it weren't for previous commitments," Brittany quips and Santana rolls her eyes, picking up the ever-growing invite list.

"She only turns one once, San. _And_ it's not like we're hurting financially. Why can't she have a huge bash?"

"Don't do that, Britt," Santana warns. "Don't try to guilt me into agreeing to rent out animals from the zoo. I want her to have a nice party, too. I just…she's one, Brittany. She's totally not going to care. But if it makes you happy, 'cause I'm guessing this is turning into more of a 'you thing' than a 'Maya thing', we'll keep the Giggle Guys but I'm nixing the live band and the zebras. There's only so much I can sanely justify."

"Okay," Brittany says, shrugging it off before ducking back inside the closet.

Another email pops up – this one from Prince William and Kate.

It reads _Does is start at four or five P.M.?_

"OhmyGod. Brittany!"

***o*O*o***

Santana loves several things about her daughter – even some things that other people might find odd, like, Maya's propensity for literally putting her foot in her mouth or the fact that she actually _likes_ butternut squash (she totally gets that from Brittany by the way), but, recently, there's one thing about Maya that Santana is completely enamored with and that's Maya talking.

Now that Maya's actually saying things and not just prattling nonsensically, Santana finds herself thoroughly intrigued, awed as if she's listening to the world's greatest orator and Maya's voice, though she'd heard it before sounds so much more adorable when she's speaking actual words.

"Ma!" Maya shouts, rushing up to her with a small green teddy bear in her hands, "Mama wook!"

"Wow Maya," Santana says, stooping down to meet her at semi-eye level. "That teddy is sooo cool. Do you love it?"

"Yesth," Maya nods, her curly pigtails bouncing as she does so, before she brings the teddy to her little chest, hugging it fiercely.

"Do you know what I love?" Santana asks. "Guess what Mama loves?"

"Wha?"

"Mama loves Maya," Santana sing-songs, opening her arms up for a hug, snuggling Maya just as the little girl was snuggling her teddy bear moments before. "Mama loves Maya so much."

"Well if this isn't the prettiest Kodak moment to come home to," Brittany says, breezing in through the door all windswept and whimsical.

Santana loves how her wife always seems to just…appear.

"Mama!" Maya yells excitedly, reaching one arm out for Brittany even as she's still holding onto Santana.

Sometimes, Santana thinks her daughter's gonna grow up to be a pimp.

Instantly, Brittany drops everything and slides over to them both, wrapping them up in her long arms and kissing Santana's cheek gently. "So why are we camped out on the floor?"

"Maya wanted to show me her green teddy," Santana informs her, leaning back against the kitchen cabinets as she sits Indian style on the floor.

"Geen!" Maya echoes, thrusting the bean bag toy into Brittany's face.

Brittany's eyes cross unwittingly and Santana chuckles as Brittany plucks the toy from Maya's grip. "Awesome, Maya," Brittany gushes. "Can I have it?"

Maya shakes her head, her smile fading a little.

"Pretty please?" Brittany begs, playing keep away when Maya reaches for it again.

Maya makes a little noise of discomfort, clearly not knowing what the right decision is when her mother starts to pout.

"My," Maya says, meaning 'mine', shaking her head once again.

"Share with Mommy, Maya," Santana tries, smiling a little when Maya's little frowning face turns to her.

"No. My," Maya says clearly and holds her hand out, waiting for Brittany to fork over the toy.

"What's this thing for?" Brittany asks playfully, tugging on Maya's arm to pull her closer as she stares quizzically at the baby's hand. "Is it for eating? I think it is," she says, pulling Maya's digits to her mouth with her free hand and pretending to nibble on them.

Maya squeals in protest, trying to pull away even as she catches a case of the giggles.

Maya spies her other mother still sitting there, watching them with a smile on her face and she reaches her other little hand out to her. "Mama! Mama!" she squeals.

"Nuh uh, Princess," Santana says, shaking her head a little. "You should have shared with Mommy. Now she's gonna eat you."

"Num, num, num, num," Brittany mumbles for emphasis and Maya shrieks again, barely managing to get out a 'No!' before bursting into another bout of baby laughs.

***o*O*o***

The Jamester – as Santana and Brittany are now sworn to call her – it seems, has found a new calling.

One that apparently makes her infinitely more fun in Maya's eyes but, then again, Maya's liked loud, noisy stuff since she came out of Santana's notorious V.A.G. so…she really shouldn't be _that_ surprised.

And she's not, not really, she just really, _really_ hopes that Maya will grow out of this by the time she's old enough to formally ask for a drum set.

As it stands, she can handle the upturned pots and pans on her kitchen floor for a little while…

…okay, maybe just thirty more minutes.

"Alright Maya," Jamie says, sitting on her knees behind the little girl, her hands wrapped around Maya's tiny fists that are gripping two wooden spoons, "I'm gonna teach you a six-stroke roll. It's really easy. We're just gonna hit this one and then-"

"Bang! Bang! Bang, bang, bang!" Maya shouts, interrupting Jamie's instruction as she hammers away at the cooking pots. "Mama, wook! I pay!"

Santana nods, continuing to stir the lemonade. "I see. You're playing very well, too, baby."

"I pay. I pay," Maya sing-songs, banging away happily even as her aunt Jamie huffs in stifled frustration.

Santana understands completely; it's hard to be frustrated with something that cute.

"I pay berry," Maya echoes, nodding along surely as she goes on with rocking out.

Jamie laughs, looking at her niece fondly. "Man, oh, man, Santana. I'm seriously in love with your daughter. I don't think it's healthy."

"It's probably not," Santana admits, moving to place the pitcher in the refrigerator. "But get in line. Brittz and I are at the top of that list."

"I bet," Jamie says, pushing herself off the floor. "Speaking of Brittz and you, how goes the birthday celebration planning?"

"Remember when we were younger and your sister used to go way overboard on LT's weird birthday parties?" Santana asks and Jamie nods. "Just imagine that times 100,000 and then you'll have Brittany planning Maya's birthday party."

"Aww, come on," Jamie giggles, rapping against the countertop with her knuckles, "She's not that bad is she?"

Santana looks at her.

"The Obamas are coming."

Jamie laughs until she sees Santana isn't. "Shit, you're serious."

"Shit," Maya parrots, her eyes twinkling as she looks up at the big people with a grin that Santana would swear was mischievous if she wasn't sure that Maya doesn't know any better.

"Uh oh," Jamie murmurs.

"Shit," Maya says again, giggling when Santana's jaw drops.

"It's not funny, May," Santana chastises, quickly scooping Maya up off the floor. "Momma doesn't want you to say that word, okay? Don't say that word again."

Maya giggles. "Shit."

"Oh God," Santana says, glaring at Jamie when she erupts in a fit of giggles all her own. "Jamie. Not helping."

"But she can't even say it right," Jamie laughs. "It sounds more like she's saying 'sit'."

"Maya," Santana says sternly, all trace of amusement gone from her face as she sits Maya on the edge of the counter, "That word is a _bad word_. Mama does not want Maya to say that word. No."

Maya looks at her, the smile on her face gradually falling. "Sh-"

"Maya," Santana says, her voice sharp, "No."

Maya starts to frown, her lower lip trembling a little and then she starts blinking more than normal and Santana's heart breaks.

She hates, hates, hates it when her baby girl cries.

She starts with a little moan that gradually works its way up into a hitching gasp, then a hiccup, then…

"WAAAAHHHH!"

"Oh no," Jamie gasps, looking as heartbroken as Santana feels and Santana breaks, never very good at this…even well-intentioned, she could never remain the source of either one of her girls' pain – a lesson she first learned the year after high school.

"Come here," she whispers, letting her fingers gently brush Maya's tears away. The baby's cheeks are warm to the touch and she feels so upset right then that it's a wonder she isn't crying too.

Tough love sucks ass.

"Baby, shh," Santana coos, hugging Maya against her chest, rubbing soothing circles on her back, "It's okay. Mama knows you didn't mean it."

The damage is still, mostly, already done though, so that's pretty much where Brittany finds things when she finally makes it home, box of pizza teetering atop her hand.

"What happened?" she asks, instantly concerned as she almost tosses the warm pie onto the kitchen table. "What's wrong?" She spies Jamie. "Is Mom here? Did she drop her?" Brittany gasps. "Is it…" she gulps before whispering, "…clowns?"

"Nope," Jamie offers kindly. "Santana made her cry."

"Because Jamie taught her a swear word," Santana instantly refutes like a child in trouble – but then she realizes she's not a child nor is she in the wrong. "She's just upset I got firm with her."

Brittany's eyes narrow in Jamie's direction. "Jamie," she starts calmly, "Are you trying to corrupt my child?"

Jamie's grin falters when Brittany's face doesn't soften. "Get out."

"Wha-"

"Get out," Brittany repeats, hurrying over to the kitchen door and pulling it open, "Out, out, OUT."

Jamie stares at her, gob-smacked. "You can't be serious."

Finally, Brittany's smile breaks free. "Okay, I'm not. But you have to be more careful, Jamie. Babies are like little pitchers and we don't want her picking up any more bad habits."

"More bad habits?" Jamie asks, breathing easier now that Brittany's closed the door again.

Brittany smiles, closing the distance between herself and her wife and daughter – Santana still brushing her lips against Maya's reddened cheeks and nose – and holds out her index finger. "Here Pumpkin," Brittany says, "Pull Mama's finger."

Maya, still sniffling, tugs on the digit and purses her lips out to blow a slobbery raspberry as her parents turn to fix Jamie with matching wry smirks.

Jamie collapses into giggles.

***o*O*o***

Puck's agreed to shut down _Rest-O-Bar _for the festivities, allowing Kurt, Brittany, and Mercedes free reign over decorations.

Normally, he'd be grumbling about the streamers and ribbons cascading around his self-proclaimed man-cave restaurant, but, thankfully he has a pregnant girlfriend (or whatever the heck he considers Quinn) that takes precedence.

Which Brittany is more than thankful for because she's having a hard enough time trying to wrangle the magnificent Mercedes and the Kardashian-esque Kurt.

And Santana thought _she_ was going overboard.

"Okay, Brittany. Picture this," Kurt says, flashing his hands in front of her face with a flourish so that she pays attention. "A beautiful rose ice sculpture, with spring water that's been colored pink especially for the occasion meticulously and majestically cascading over its wilting petals."

Brittany blinks at him. "Pink water? Can you even drink it?"

Kurt balks at the suggestion. "I suppose so but it's more of a decorative piece than refreshment, Brittany."

"I think I'll stick with balloons and streamers for decoration, then," Brittany says, moving past him. "And we agreed on a gender neutral color palette, Kurt. No more Barbie's dream house."

Kurt pouts, turning to a blank page in his party planner notebook, "Killjoy."

Brittany leaves him and Mercedes to themselves for a quick break, easily spying Quinn munching quietly on what looks to be a plate of bacon.

"Hey Preggers," Brittany greets kindly, "Seen your feet lately?"

"Oh," Quinn laughs, her protruding belly quivering, "You're very lucky I'm past my over-emotional phase Brittany. A month ago a comment like that would have turned me into a blubbering mess."

"Hey, I said nothing about blubber," Brittany defends with an impish smile, holding her hands up in mock defense as she slides onto the booth with Quinn. "Thanks for letting us use this place, by the way."

"Like we'd say no. Even if I would have tried to go all bitchy pregnant lady, Noah would've put an end to it. You know he loves Maya more than anything," Quinn says, chomping down on another piece of bacon. "We all do."

"Just like we'll all love this little one," Brittany says, rubbing Quinn's baby bump gently. "Even though its mommy won't tell us what it is."

"I want it to be a surprise," Quinn says.

"Usually, when people say that, they mean for everyone. So that on arrival day, the parents are all shocked and stuff. But, it's weird that you and Puck know and none of us do."

"Rachel knows."

Brittany gasps, almost affronted. "She does not."

"Calm down," Quinn giggles. "I didn't mean to tell her or anything. It was just shortly after we'd found out and she guessed and I was a little too slow at screwing on my poker face."

Brittany's eyes flash as she turns to face Quinn dead-on. "I bet I can guess it, too."

"Well, considering there are only two choices, I'm guessing you can too. But, I'm not confirming or denying anything."

"Figures," Brittany mutters, just as a chorus of greeting erupts from the entrance.

"What in the-" the blonde starts to say, craning her neck to what or who is causing the ruckus, and she only looks more confused when she realizes it's Santana. Quinn just watches her in quiet amusement.

"You do realize that you're married to a somewhat famous person, don't you?" Quinn asks through a laugh. "Why else do you think our wait staff treats you like freakin' royalty?"

"'Cause I'm Brittany," she shrugs, "…bitch."

***o*O*o***

The day of the party ends up being the most hectic but not for any of the reasons one would usually expect.

The cake, flawlessly constructed and three tiers high, arrives on time and is perfectly chilled and waiting to be set.

The food is warmed and settled, waiting to be served to their guests.

They have all the chairs in the world and the Giggle Guys get there in plenty of time to set up, ready to greet them and Maya when they make their grand entrance.

And Maya looks baby glamorous in her frilly pale pink dress and her hair pinned atop her head, the ringlets Santana's stylist created spill out from a perfect pink ribbon beautifully.

Indeed, everything goes well, except…

"Brittany, just take deep breaths," Santana says, rubbing her wife's back gently.

Brittany, doubled over on the couch with her head between her knees, sits rigidly while Santana glares at the two gentlemen meant to be their mobile escort to the party – because who better than Kurt and his careful driving ass, really, plus then they could just drive by the paps without much suspicion.

But with Kurt comes Blaine and with Blaine comes the perhaps-completely-adorable-at-first-but-in-hindsight-totally-moronic-idea to dress in costume…

…as a clown.

…

…

Yeah, so Brittany's deathly afraid of clowns.

So, when the doorbell rang out and the blonde looked from Kurt's smiling face to Blaine's and his bulbous red nose she pretty much started hyperventilating right away; after slapping him first, of course.

Now though, Blaine's wearing a frown that's distorted by the brilliant red smile still painted on his face. "Brittany, I had no idea."

"He really didn't," Kurt tries to help, hitching Maya up higher on his arm. "He just wanted to do something that he thought would entertain the kids and since you guys forbade us from actually buying Maya presents, this is what we came up with. And look," Kurt adds, turning so that Maya is looking at clown-Blaine again, "Maya likes it."

Indeed, Maya giggles delightfully, reaching up to tug at Blaine's faux nose.

Brittany peeks at them through her fingers a little bit. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Blaine says, jumping through the small window of opportunity, "Plus, it's not like I'm some scary stranger clown, Brittany. You know me. I'm just wearing a lot of make-up."

"A lot _more_ make-up," Santana adds and Brittany manages a small smile at that.

"I," she sighs, pushing herself up to stand, "I guess you guys are right. I mean, there's nothing to be afraid of."

"Of course not," Blaine laughs, looking on as Santana hooks an arm lovingly around Brittany's waist.

Maya squeezes Blaine's nose then, the loud subsequent honk making Brittany jump in place, then stiffen. "Clown," she squeaks, plopping back down onto the couch and rocking herself back and forth.

"Okay," Santana says, rolling up her sleeves and approaching the two men, "Time for a compromise."

**Ten minutes later…**

Brittany leans closer into Santana, nuzzling her face against her bared shoulder, "Thank you for helping me Baby."

"Always," Santana murmurs against her hair, rubbing her thumb across the top of Brittany's knuckles. She looks over to Maya who's fastened in her car seat, the now soundless honking nose held firmly in her grasp.

Blaine sulks in the passenger seat.

***o*O*o***

When they finally get there, get there, Maya's fallen asleep and Brittany's shoos the boys in ahead of them, wanting it to just be the three of them when they enter.

Santana lifts Maya out of her seat, letting the baby's head fall against her shoulder as she carries her.

"Should we wake her up?" Brittany wonders aloud, sliding Maya's baby bag onto her shoulder.

"Nah," Santana answers, maneuvering carefully in her heels, "She'll wake up on her own soon enough. No need to introduce cranky Maya to her unsuspecting, adoring public."

They go through the back entrance as planned because the paparazzi of course got wind of the event, and even though Santana's gracious when it comes to her press, sometimes even she doesn't want to be bothered and Santana's even more thankful when it seems that Kurt and Blaine have passed along word that Maya's asleep because when they enter what's supposed to be a party in full-swing, all they hear are tender murmurs and whispers.

"Aww, she's so adorable," Portia DeGeneres coos, touching the baby girl's back gently before turning to her wife. "I want another one."

Santana laughs at the anxious look on Ellen's face.

There's a lot of Brittany's friends from work and Santana's friends in the industry, but they mostly breeze by them, bee-lining directly for the tables designated for close friends and family.

"Oh-ho! There's Nana's little gorgie-poo!"

So much for trying to keep Maya awake.

"Ma," Brittany hisses at her mother as the toddler's head pops up off of Santana's shoulder and she looks around, startled at all the unfamiliar faces – and the somewhat rude awakening.

When the 'Happy Birthdays' start coming at her from every direction, Maya's chest hitches.

"It's okay, Maya," Santana murmurs in her daughter's ear, rubbing her back gently. "It's your birthday party remember? You're turning one year old and everyone wants to celebrate, that's all."

Maya doesn't seem too comforted, letting out a low unintelligible murmur of discontent, but she leans back against her mother's neck, clutching at her tightly.

***o*O*o***

It takes a while, but Maya settles down a lot more when she's finally realizes she's surrounded by people she knows.

In Maya's defense, they hardly ever look this done up when they're around _her_ so Brittany gets the confusion.

"Oh my God," Angel gasps, ducking low in his seat. "I think…I think Taylor Swift just winked at me."

"And you're ducking?" Sam asks him, shaking his head. "Man up, dude."

"She _is_ looking," Lenora says, licking her thumb and clearing a smudge on Angel's face before he can protest.

"Ma," the young man screeches, horrified.

"What? I didn't raise you to be a slob."

Brittany chuckles, keeping an eye on Maya, who's taken to twirling with Artie and Tina on the dance floor.

She can't exactly blame their daughter for deserting them; _The Wheels on the Bus_ is her jam.

"Yo, Senteyna," some chick with a serious tanning salon addiction greets, smacking heavily on some gum. Brittany wants gum. She looks vaguely familiar though. So does the greased up guy she's standing next to.

"I just hafta say, your dawtuh, is like the cutest thing I've eveh saw. Honest on errthang."

"Yeah," the guy agrees, with a big cheesy smile. "She's like all…adorable an' stuff. I mean, you get me bro?"

This question he directs to Brittany while holding his fist out and Brittany, who obviously has no idea what she's supposed to get, just daps him back because it's the appropriate thing to do.

Luckily, it appeases the plastic looking people and they shuffle away, rubbing elbows with a few of Santana's guests.

"San," Brittany asks, pressing a kiss to her wife's shoulder.

"Hmm?"

"Please tell me we're not related to them."

Santana laughs, loudly.

***o*O*o***

"Unkie!" Maya laughs, trying to avoid Angel's poking fingers unsuccessfully. "Mama," she pleads and Santana comes to her rescue quickly.

"Come on Princess, let's go see where Mommy disappeared to."

Santana scans the place quickly, looking for her thumbs-up indicator and finding it in Mercedes, both thumbs pointed skyward as she smiles.

She moves toward the center of the room, where a small chair is already waiting.

"Okay, everybody," Puck says, interrupting one of the Giggle Guys – an action that causes the innumerable amount of kids present to boo their hearts out, "It's time for us to present the cake to the birthday girl. So let's all sing Maya the birthday song."

The lights cut out then and Brittany wheels the cake out, the sparklers upon it blazing grandly, and she peeks out from behind it to see her wife and daughter wearing matching looks of elation – Maya's a little more awed than Santana's though – and she gets a little choked up when Maya starts happily clapping along to the song.

When they get to the 'dear Maya' part, her little girl looks marveled at the fact that everyone knows her name, but then the cake's right there in front of her and she gets over it quickly, reaching out to grab it.

"Not yet, Maya," Santana says into the microphone Puck's handed her. "You've got to blow out the candle first. Remember, just like we practiced. On three: one, two, three."

Maya and Santana both blow out the candle, Maya clapping and laughing when everyone else starts to applaud, but then she stops suddenly when the candle comes alit again.

Maya looks back at Santana, confused.

This wasn't part of the drill.

"Don't look at me. Look at your other mother," Santana says, smiling at Brittany. "Britt, you promised."

Brittany smirks, holding up her crossed fingers and Santana shakes her head, tipping Maya forward again.

"Okay, Maya, one more time."

***o*O*o***

"She is knocked out," Santana says when Brittany finally comes back from the bathroom.

"Well, I would hope so," Brittany says, combing out her wet hair. "It's not every day you party down with the Giggle Guys _and_ get to throw cake at your moms."

"I still say that was payback for the trick candle," Santana laughs, turning down the blankets on Brittany's side so that she can climb in beside them.

Maya's snuggled into the down of their bed; she's only wearing a diaper and her hair is fanned out over the pillow as she sleeps, her little back rising and falling with her short, deep breaths.

Brittany slides in, snuggling as close as she can without waking her. She runs her fingers lightly through Maya's curls, watchful as Maya sighs in her sleep. "It seems like just yesterday we were bringing her home, you know?"

Santana nods with a smile, facing Maya from the other side and tracing a finger down her nose. "You were so worried driving us home."

Brittany groans, remembering. "I swear; that guy _stayed_ on my ass."

"But you got us here," Santana adds gently, finding Brittany's hand and tangling their fingers together, resting their joined hands on Maya's back. "You got us here safe and sound."

Brittany smiles, shifting closer still. "And now it's a year later…almost."

Santana grins knowingly at that little add-on. Brittany, although spear-heading Maya's first birthday celebration like a champ, refuses to give Maya her one year-old status until the last possible moment and since Maya technically wasn't born until 11:57pm, she's not a year old yet, in Brittany's eyes.

Santana motions with her eyes for Brittany to come closer and her wife does, using her free arm to prop her body up over Maya's. Santana does the same as she meets her in the middle and kisses Brittany gently, soundly. "And you're still keeping us safe. And sound."

"Thank you," Brittany murmurs as Santana pulls away, her eyes fluttering open.

Santana searches Brittany's eyes, her own twinkling like diamonds. "For what?"

"For making me the happiest person on the face of this planet," Brittany says. "And I know that's a cliché thing to say – by the way, Santana, what does that mean? I mean, isn't a cliché what Kurt made for dinner that one time? – but anyway, I know people say that all the time and they might mean it, but I _know_ I'm the luckiest person in the world. Even that guy that won the lottery five times isn't luckier than me because I have you and Maya and you guys are priceless," Brittany says, then scrunches her brow. "…or price…full? I don't know; I'm trying to say that the richest person couldn't afford you guys-"

"I get it, Britt," Santana laughs.

"And I love you guys so much. I mean, I love you for giving Maya to me. For letting her swim around in your tummy for nine months and then popping her out like a jack in the box," Brittany says with a smile, laughing when Santana crooks a brow at that description of events. "What? That's not how it happened?"

"I think we'll always have different versions of _that_ story," Santana says and Brittany laughs, a little louder than she'd anticipated Santana thinks because she worriedly glances down to a still dozing Maya.

Santana watches as Brittany's eyes soften again. "And then there's my Pumpkin," Brittany says softly, leaning back in to press a kiss to Maya's cheek. "I love how she laughs, how she smiles, how she smells. How she looks at me and you like we're the greatest people she knows. I love when she randomly wants to give us kisses and hugs. I even love how she flushed my keys down the toilet that one time because I got an extra day at home with you guys."

Santana snorts. "Britt, you did that."

"Shh," Brittany says, looking around worriedly like her boss might hear them. Brittany pulls on their joined hands until they're all snuggled together in the center of the bed, Brittany sliding her arm around Santana's waist and vice-versa.

"I don't want to sleep yet," Brittany whispers with a pout. "If I don't go to sleep, maybe it'll never be tomorrow and Maya can stay our little baby girl forever."

"It doesn't work like that, Baby," Santana murmurs, yawning herself.

"I know," Brittany says, fighting to keep her eyes open.

"Just go to sleep. I promise you Maya won't turn into a teenager overnight," Santana says, watching as Brittany finally succumbs to her tiredness. "You won't miss a thing."

***o*O*o***

"Brittany," Santana whispers, tickling Brittany's neck gently.

Brittany murmurs something she can't understand before snuggling down further into the covers.

"Brittany," Santana tries again, this time pressing a finger to Brittany's nose and pressing a little firmer until it scrunches up in protest.

Maya and Santana giggle at the same time as Brittany's eyes peek open, finding her wife holding their daughter and leaning over the bed with a tender smile. "About time you woke up," Santana chides warmly. "You're gonna miss it."

"Miss what?" Brittany asks groggily, sleep making her voice all thick and throaty, but she powers through it as Santana pushes the covers off of her.

"Maya's birthday, silly," Santana says and for a moment Brittany thinks she's dreaming but then she looks at the clock and sees that it's 11:43 and she's wide awake suddenly.

Santana's sitting up in the bed, her long legs folded to be a chair for Maya who's still only wearing a diaper; in front of them, a lone cupcake with a single purple candle sits on a saucer.

Brittany meets Santana's eyes, a curious smile on her face and Santana reads it instantly before starting in on an explanation.

"The big party was for the world and everybody else. This," Santana says, lighting the candle with practiced ease, making sure to keep Maya's inquisitive hands away, "…exactly a year to that date and time our daughter was born is for us. No cameras, no glitz and glam; just you, me, and Maya."

Brittany smiles with a nod, moving so that she can slide her body around the both of them, legs bracketing Santana's and arms settling to hold them both close as they she and Santana watch the clock.

The six turns to a seven and they both whisper their happy birthdays to Maya, the baby girl captivated by the flickering light in the darkened room.

"Make a wish, Pumpkin," Brittany says quietly, sliding her face forward so that her cheek brushes along Santana's. "Make a wish and blow out the candle."

After having had much practice – thanks to that damn trick candle – Maya makes quick work of blowing it out, and she smiles happily watching the wispy smoke strands float as her parents kiss and kiss and kiss and kiss…


End file.
